


panoramic windows looking out across your soul

by Mia_Zeklos



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Character Study, Complicated Relationships, Darillium, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, General Recklessness and Characters Who Don't Know What They Want, Missing Scene, Time Travel, not really but it does sort of fit in there since it's a mid-Darillium thing, this was supposed to have smut in it but it's 5.7k words now so it is what it is, this wasn't a tag but it is now 'cause I need it, to a certain degree and mostly treated in a positive light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 12:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18261341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mia_Zeklos/pseuds/Mia_Zeklos
Summary: Six months into their stay on Darillium, River goes back toHarmony and Redemptionin search of several more precious artefacts, to a rather unexpected outcome.





	panoramic windows looking out across your soul

**Author's Note:**

> /Title taken from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zM1KK2xX4_w)./
> 
> Short note: I'm not a very good person.
> 
> Longer version: Being in the middle of several complicated WIPs around time travel has made me rewatch a lot of River/Doctor related episodes and, to be honest, the more I delve into THORS, the more it frustrates me at times. I do enjoy it from Twelve's side as he is behaving, I think, exactly how he can be expected to under those circumstances. It's River's situation that doesn't sit right with me, namely the way she behaves once she does realise that he's the Doctor, along with the implications that those twenty-four years bring - twenty-four years of endless linear happiness, supposedly, out of which she still somehow ends up referring to Eleven as "her" Doctor (especially in key moments like the Library and TNOTD). I just want to clarify: this isn't meant to be a criticism towards Twelve in any way, as I think he was wonderful, particularly in this situation. It's more of a River meta fic, with a side of inevitable Eleven because it is, in canon, where River always ends up in the end.  
> Hope you enjoy it and feedback is always welcome!

If the Doctor ever finds out that she’d come back here at some point, River suspects, he’d strangle her with his bare hands. It wouldn’t be an awfully unjustified reaction, either – given the experiences they’d had here, she can’t even blame him. It’s not that she _wants_ to put herself in the exact same kind of grave danger as before; she just can’t help herself. It’s always been an issue – one she largely blames on a long history of getting by just barely and never having quite enough of anything – and it’s not something she expects understanding for where her husband is concerned. No one with a TARDIS in their possession can fully comprehend the kind of greed that a lifetime of _lacking_ can cause.

 _One hundred billion credits_. If she’d had her way – and she’d made entirely sure that that would be the case beforehand – River would have kept her diamond and the money from her buyer along with it once _Harmony and Redemption_ crashed and burned, only to go and get her reward from the Halassi later on. It would have been so _easy_ once she had the TARDIS on hand, if only it hadn’t been—

Well. That had been trouble, hadn’t it? She’d failed to take all of possible directions that the Doctor could take the situation in into account. He’d used her recently acquired interplanetary bank access to disable her dear late husband’s body and, given the barren, empty desert that Darillium had looked like when they’d crashed into it and the lavish restaurant she’d woken up to later, River had been rather hesitant about asking what he’d done with the diamond. Anyone else would have been happy to get out of a situation still breathing, she supposes – it’s the argument she’s used to talk herself out of this mission quite a few times by now – but the impulse to manage to wring _something_ out of such an outrageously rich place had been too powerful to ignore and in the end, she’d given in.

It had taken all of six months and the end of her unspoken dilemma had brought her at the door of one of the biggest suites on board. She can’t get what she’d previously come for without disturbing her own time stream, but there’s plenty of guests that can use a bit of mystery in their lives, even if it’s in the form of some of their most prized possessions suddenly missing. She’d chosen the chambers of an old friend of hers – close enough to one, at least, for River to not be on the list of suspects when some of her luggage appeared to be _misplaced_ later on – as her first target, mainly because she’s be familiar with the kind of belongings the woman would want delivered ahead of her before docking. Lady Eve Rafbaughn is a rather notorious thief and an even more notorious murderer; it only makes sense that she’d like to try and form a working relationship with a time-travelling archaeologist averse to asking questions. So far, River had always managed to keep her end of the bargain by collecting what had been promised to her and not dipping into anything she hadn’t personally helped the woman get her hands on, but what does it matter now? It would make no difference to her ten days from now when all of this – the Lady herself included – would be nothing but charred remains in the desolation of Darillium. It’s an easy inner conflict to solve.

It’s the door to her rooms that’s giving her more trouble than anything else right now, as much as River doesn’t like to admit it. The sonic’s no good and all the entrance’s mechanism has done so far is scan her body, flash a list of something too quick to be readable on the tiny screen by the door and then deny her access immediately. She’d thought it to be an iris recognition device of some sort – usually not an issue, considering that she has just enough Time Lord in her for the kind of subtle changes that something like this requires – but that theory had been disproved on her first attempt. It’s frustrating; if she can understand the principle then she’d know how to overcome it, but it’s been almost half an hour now and she still can’t find any kind of pattern that makes sense. There’s a clear hierarchy on this particular starship, but having the entire system based around that is a bit of a stretch. She’s got time – it’s two days until Lady Eve is supposed to dock and nine before River herself shows up – but being caught here now would be difficult to explain even with her talent of talking her way out of complicated situations.

There’s a definite possibility, of course, that this particular machine is something the Doctor could be familiar with, but she knows better than to go there. It’s not difficult to imagine the kind of reaction the idea would bring out of him if she’d ever brought it up, so River stuffs the thought somewhere in the back of her mind where it belongs along with the precise type of patient exasperation she knows she’d see written all over his features at such a reveal. She _hadn’t_ brought it up, after all, she’s going to be back before he has the time to notice that she’s missing and he knows nothing about this. And what the Doctor doesn’t know—

“River?”

 _Oh, no_.

It’s the first thought that filters through her already whirling mind before she recognises the pitch of the painfully familiar voice for what it is and for what it _isn’t_. The Doctor hasn’t managed to track her down ( _yet_ ); the surprise that laces her name isn’t an attempt to feign confusion while she tries to explain away her presence here. It’s worse. It’s a _coincidence_.

“Darling!” It’s the cheeriest greeting she can muster once she’d spun on her heel and stuffed the sonic in her back pocket like a child with a present they hadn’t been supposed to open yet. A rather unfortunate analogy, really, but far too apt, given the circumstances. “What brings you here?”

Now that he’s completely sure of her identity, there’s nothing stopping the Doctor from crossing the distance between them and he raises a hand to her cheek, pushing a stray curl away from her face. It’s a greeting and an attempt at comfort all at once and River doesn’t even want to _think_ about how caught in the headlights she looks just now. She’s got an impressive list of good reasons for that, of course – more than she can count just now – but nothing she can really disclose in front of him. “I’d say the TARDIS, but given the _other_ TARDIS I passed on my way here, I’d say you already know that.” He laughs, far more at ease now when compared to the last time they’d run into future version of themselves back on Calderon Beta, and River manages a feeble smile in return.

The Doctor takes in their surroundings, the hand in her hair sliding down to her own palm until they can intertwine their fingers. River allows it before she can think better of it. It’d be suspicious to make a run for it now, she reasons, and there’s not much she can do apart from eventually sneaking out for a second time tonight. She’d only have to distract him in the meantime. It’s an easier prospect to think about when her other option is letting herself dwell on the last time she’d seen him in this body and everything that had happened since then. He’s much older now than he had been there – she’d learnt to tell by both his clothes and his eyes all the way back in University when she hadn’t even known what exactly she was looking _at_. Now, so many years later, it’s easier to see her parents’s loss weighing him down like a brand even as he’s as open as he can be with the ambiguity that had always plagued them – it’s not the kind of brand he’d ever show in front of her before he’d found out where they are in their respective timelines. “‘s a nice place. I can see why we’d come again. “

“You have no idea. _We_?” She makes a show of checking behind the corner and takes the opportunity to transfer the screwdriver back into her purse before he’d managed to get a good look at it. “Am I somewhere around here too?”

“Not this time.” Another step closer and she finds herself pressed against the wall as he leans in for a fleeting kiss, her free hand reaching out to rest on his hip without River making the conscious decision to move. This will work, of course – if he finds out where they are, the last three months of her life could unravel at the smallest slip-up and _God_ , this had been a mistake. “I’m not even sure why I’ve landed here, to be honest – or where _here_ is, actually – but once I saw the TARDIS right outside in the hallway, I couldn’t resist seeing what _that_ was about. And usually it’d be a bad idea to try and cross your own time stream, but I felt like you’d want this back first.”

A quiet curse slips out despite River’s best efforts when she sees him dig one of her field scanners out of the bottomless pockets of his purple coat. Of course. She’d been in enough of a hurry to only really pay attention to what she’d been doing once she’d started with her attempts to wrestle the suite’s door open, of _course_ something small had slipped past her way before that. The Doctor hadn’t recognised their surroundings when they’d first landed on the starship while trying to outrun whatever had been left of Hydroflax and she’d have to make sure to keep things that way now that she’s responsible for the potential rewriting of certain details. She’d be far more careless with the idea, usually – small changes had never hurt anyone – but it had been a close shave in her version of events as it _is_ and they can’t really afford anything being rewritten _now_.

So, “Thank you, sweetie,” she manages before slipping out of his hold and nodding towards the control panel in front of her instead. The longer she can keep him occupied here, the easier it will be to fix things before they get out of hand. “There’s something I’ve been working on here, actually; I was wondering if you’d recognise the lock.”

“Can’t say I do, no.” He knows better than to ask why she hasn’t already asked whatever future version of him he presumes is here with her. _Spoilers_ , it goes without saying, and it’s the first time in recent memory in which the word doesn’t hurt – well, not enough for it to show. “What’s in there?”

“Something I want back.”

It’s not precisely a lie and what little sincerity there is in the statement shines through in her voice, but the Doctor still looks up, the amused glint in his eyes belying the stern expression he’s trying to hold on to. “Something you want _back_ or just something you want?”

River outright grins now. It’s impossible not to be drawn in by him as easily as she had been by the prospect of the necklace she’s got in mind, somewhere right behind those doors. “Is there a difference?”

“Archaeologist,” he mutters as he fishes out his own sonic. It sounds like the fondest sort of curse on this tongue and there’s definitely a part of her that’s missed this far too much for her own good. It’s quickly followed by, “Now what’s this about?” once he gets close enough and the scanner from before passes over him as well, accompanied by the same activity on the screen that River herself had received a few minutes ago, with one small variation.

This time, the door unlocks.

He hadn’t even had the chance to try and use the sonic before River hears the lock release and a moment later, she’s pushed him inside before anyone can notice anything out of place. The door slides shut behind them and River instinctively checks the corners for cameras, despite knowing that she’d find none. This section of the ship is as isolated from the rest of the passengers as possible; no one expects it to be a particularly attractive sight even to staff and guests who happen to be remorseless murderers themselves. Suites are, after all, only offered to—

The laughter, when it comes, is both relieved and unexpected enough for the Doctor to turn away from inspecting the room and raise an eyebrow at her. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing, sweetie.” _Planet burners._ She should’ve known that her credentials wouldn’t be enough. Only remembering herself a second later, River reaches for her pocket. “Just a theory I had about the rooms. Shall we do diaries, then?”

“No need.” The Doctor had stepped closer again, his hand stilling hers before she’d had the chance. “The last time I saw you was the planet of the rain gods.”

It must have been rather memorable given his reaction speed. Either that, or, River amends with a wince, their meetings had been few and far between.

“I’m looking forward to it, then,” she says, mind racing for a way to return the gesture without giving too much away. “Sounds— explosive.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. Thunderous, though.”

Oh, but she’d missed this – the half-smile, the reckless suggestion in his eyes, the spark of not quite dormant madness to reflect her own. She loves him regardless of the face he wears; regardless of the little quirks of his character, but there’s _something_ about him at this age that she’d, at some point over a century ago, developed an undeniable weakness for. He’s rarely one to disapprove of outings such as this one, too, even if he does love to pretend.

It’s been a long time since she’s seen this particular incarnation of his and it _hurts_. The memory of their last time together is still fresh in her mind, along with the guilt of giving him all of a week before she’d ran and left him to his grief so that they could both lick their wounds in peace. She’d always meant to reach out after that, but it had never been the right time and in the end, she’d somehow forced herself into the conviction that she might just never get the chance to see him again.

It’s not something that she can explain to him, that much is obvious – not now and likely not ever. So she tugs him closer instead, one hand straying up to the back of his neck to play with the hair there absently until he presses into her touch, attention sufficiently diverted for the time being. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much about where I’m coming from.”

“Spoilers, is it?” He murmurs and River sinks into his embrace gratefully when he crowds her against the wall, quietly insistent as usual. Over his shoulder, she can see the door that leads to the walk-in closet and, with it, to the actual goal of this trip. She’s not leaving this ship empty-handed save for the Doctor _again_ , she needs to make sure of that, but arranging a distraction first is her more pressing issue. “How can you tell?”

“I just can.” Her eyes dart to the lavish interior next as she decides that being honest might just be the best deception she’s got on hand. “You’ll have to trust me.”

“Of course.” He’s so open about it now that it makes her hearts ache. “I suppose that means I can’t know where we’ve ended up this time either?”

“Naturally, yes.” She does her best to offer the sweetest smile she can manage and it doesn’t count for much, but it’s always done the job when it comes to him before. “I’d say that your future might depend on it, but you know that already.”

“Naturally,” he echoes and steps away to examine his surroundings again, the flash of a smile enough to tell her that he’s willing to play by her rules as long as she keeps indulging his own. It’s the easy sort of trust that she’s never sure she’s earned yet when she meets him out of order and River directs her attention to the closet again to hide her continued relief. It makes perfect sense given where he is in their timeline, but the tension of being non-linear feels like coming home even now. She’s certainly going to meet the him from (her) recent past quite a few times in her future since he hadn’t mentioned any kind of absence yet and it’s the last thing she’d expected. _Twenty-four years_. It had been a strange thing to try and imagine and it’s becoming stranger still as she watches the Doctor sonic his way through the suite, peeking into every corner and every nightstand while she puts on a pair of gloves and start rummaging through the numerous jewellery boxes laid down in front of her.

“Whose room is this?” He calls out as he flips through the books in the built-in library. River grins as she considers another ring and stuffs it in her back while her husband pretends not to notice. It’s not like their owner will get the chance to miss them either way.

“Could be yours for all you know. It did respond to you.”

“Doesn’t explain why you were trying to break in, though. Oh look!” He peers through yet another doorframe from his vantage point on the back of the couch as he examines the various souvenirs mounted on the wall. “There’s a _bedroom_ through here.”

“Leave it,” River warns, but it’s too late – he’d disappeared into the next room and she follows quickly along with a few more additions to her quickly growing collection. She’d only had in mind a particular necklace at first, but why stop there? It’s only fair after the damage she’d taken on her last stay here. “That’s not—”

“Oh, this is _divine_.”

The sight that greets her a moment later makes her stop in her tracks. The bed _is_ rather expansive and the Doctor had already managed to sink deep into the thick, pristine white sheets, eyes still wandering around the room with the endless curiosity that never fails to tug on her heartsstrings as he motions her closer.

And really, she can’t see the harm. She _had_ been trying to think of a distraction and this is the oldest trick in her – or anyone’s – book, even if the Doctor doesn’t see it that way for now. In fact, she doubts there’s any ulterior motive to his intent at all apart from wanting her to share the kind of outrageous luxury he’d inadvertently helped her break into, but it’s never too difficult to change his mind on that once she drops her bag and jacket on the floor and follows his example, meeting him halfway as he sits up. His hands had come up to wrap around her almost on reflex and just like that, she’s in his embrace again, mirroring the ridiculous grin he’d plastered over his face without a second thought.

“So,” he asks conversationally, “who exactly are you robbing?”

“Oh, no one you should feel sorry for, really,” River says in her most reassuring tone. She tends to pick precisely this kind of victims and he’s long since resigned himself to that fact enough to decide not to berate her before he’d heard the full story. It’s difficult to keep up her secrecy, though, when he’s bound to see right through it, and there’s not much point to it. The only thing she has to do is hold back on any details that could give away their location. “Lady Eve Rafbaughn, one of the royals they’ve got on board. She’s a serial thief herself, you know. Goods, people, planets – you name it, she’s done it. Offensively rich, too; all of it illegal. She had it coming, if you ask me.”

“I can see why you wouldn’t approve,” the Doctor agrees, but she can easily see the smile threatening to break through his scowl of disapproval. “Has no one thought of arresting her?”

“Oh, they _have_.” She’s briefly distracted by her husband’s fingers tangling in her hair so that he can bring her closer, hazel eyes darkening almost imperceptibly. “No one’s managed it for long so far.” Now they’d never get the chance, she supposes. Eve would land here and find her room already wired to someone else’s unique signature, all thanks to her and the Doctor’s tinkering, go on a rampage or two, get her luggage transferred to another available suite shortly afterwards, then crash along with the rest of the ship. If they’d exchanged just a few less death threats than they actually had in their time together, River supposes she might have missed her company.

“Fancy her a bit, do you?” The Doctor accuses lightly. His hold on her is still firm enough for her to be able to feel the bite of it into her side and it sends a shiver down her spine even as she tries to keep up the pretence of conversation.

“And you don’t?”

The smile she gets in return is gentle, perfectly in tune with her teasing even as the Doctor strokes a careful hand down her side; an offer of comfort even though there’d been nothing upsetting her. The purpose behind it comes a moment later.

“What’s going to happen to her?” She opens her mouth to ask, but he beats her to it. “If she’s so dangerous and we’re going through her things like they’re already up for grabs, I’m assuming she won’t make it to the end of this trip alive.”

“No one will, I’m afraid.” _Apart from the two of us,_ but isn’t that usually the case? “The ship ends up in the wrong place in the wrong time; that’s all. No survivors.”

The Doctor’s brow furrows in alarm. For all of its luxury, this could be a prison vessel of some kind, but that’s never made a shred of difference to him before.

“Then we have to try—”

“We already tried. It was no good – too many things depend on it for time to change, I suppose,” River interrupts him. There’s not much she can give away without ruining it all but, “if it’s any comfort, it happened to the overwhelming relief of the rest of the Universe, good old Eve included. It was an accident, but it saved thousands of lives.” The collective damage that everyone on board could have continued inflicting had they lived to tell the tale is too much even for River to calculate. “Not much of a tragedy, in the end. There _are_ people beyond saving out there.”

Her husband reaches up, faltering halfway through only to cup her cheek in the palm of his hand when she does her best to evade his inquisitive gaze. “River—”

He’s standing on the edge between worry and the urge to reprimand her and she suddenly remembers the thinly veiled comparison that they’d had going on until now and of course, it makes sense. It’s so much like him to worry when she’s being even slightly tight-lipped about anything; Manhattan must still be as fresh for him as it keeps being for her. The Doctor she would come home to had lived for centuries after that and there’s a relative calmness about him that River wishes desperately could be contagious. As it is, she’s stuck with the same sudden surges of anxiety she can see mirrored in the Doctor’s eyes now. “I _did_ actually mean just Lady Rafbaughn this time, sweetie.”

River only lets her infinitesimal confession hang in the air between them for a moment before finally closing the distance with another kiss. It’s sharp and a little harsh but it’s nothing they’re not used to and just this once, it’s fine. She could do with something familiar but still unexpected; something beloved and untamed at the same time.

And he _understands_ , he always has; doesn’t mind being firmer with her because he can sense that she needs the distraction. And she does; she hadn’t realised just how much before ending up here. It’s been six months and she’s _happy_ , she really is – she loves him, is still grateful for every moment of time together that the Universe and their circumstances allow them and it doesn’t really matter if her little occasional outings get more and more reckless each time even though it’s only been _half a year_ – but there’s still something— something—

Something just like _this_. She hadn’t wanted to admit it before and is still rather reluctant about it, but as soon as the memories of before – before the loss of her parents, before the grief and loss and unspoken, directionless anger – come flooding out from the neat, confined space she’d set up for them, she’s lost. _This_ is what she needs. In a way, it always had been and it’s a painful conclusion to come to given the life she should be coming home to already.

It occurs to her that she’d lied. If there was a list of people beyond saving, she’s definitely got a spot on it already.

“River. _River_.” The Doctor holds her by the shoulders when she refuses to pull away from his kiss and, when she finally chances a glance at him, he looks _shaken_. It doesn’t take her long to find out why – not when one of his hands lets go of her upper arms to brush a finger over her cheek instead and comes away wet. “What’s wrong?”

River covers his hand with her own, tangling their fingers together with just enough determination to make him pull away. She hadn’t even realised. There’s no room for tears here – there isn’t supposed to be – but then again, they’d never been too good at playing by their own rules. “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” His voice is deceptively calm and it’s all for her benefit, but she can feel the questions burning under his skin once she grants herself a quick peek into his mind.

 _And we were doing so well_. It’s what’s floating on the forefront of it all, as if he’d been just as tentative about breaching their carefully maintained peace as she had tried – and failed – to be. It’s an oddly comforting thought. “Is it something from our future?” Is what he says when he actually opts to speak out loud. “Has to be, hasn’t it.” It’s not a question and he doesn’t bother waiting for a response, dozens of possibilities already racing through his head. There’s no reason why it should make sense from his end of this encounter – for all he knows, she’d been perfectly happy to see him when they’d first stumbled upon each other and had shown no signs of being upset. And she hadn’t been, really. Still isn’t. It’s only that— well. That’s just the thing, isn’t it? She can’t even explain it. “What did future me _do_?”

“Nothing,” River informs him forlornly. It’s more honesty than she’s been indulging in in a while. If she allows herself to be a bit more cynical about the entire thing than she wants to be, she fears it might be the first time since Christmas Day all the way back on Mendorax Dellora. “You’re _perfect_.”

“Mmm.” It’s all the acknowledgment she gets and the Doctor’s eyes are still full of mistrust – the apprehensive kind that weighs on her far more than any of the questions he’d asked her when he’d met her back when he hadn’t really known her. “Tell me, do all your compliments sound like eulogies?”

“You tell me,” she fires back, embracing his relative willingness to change the topic with two open arms. “They’re usually directed at you.”

River lets him pretend to be modest about his preening for a few seconds; pushes his fringe away from his eyes when the Doctor leans into the caress, as uncertain as he’s sincere. That’s part of it, she realises, ridiculous as it is. Uncertainty. A part of her had missed it – missed _him_.

“Missed me,” he scoffs as soon as the thought filters through her mind and River tries to manage a smile for him, even more so at the attempt at indignation mixed with the fact that he’s at least a little pleased to hear that. “ _I’m_ not going anywhere.”

The implication is clear and even if River refuses to rise to the bait, she knows he’s got a point. _You might not be, but I am_.

“Is that right?” She says instead, going for teasing – her usual last defence.

“I have nowhere to be,” the Doctor shrugs, making a show of gesturing to their surroundings, as if she’d have somehow forgotten that she’s still seated on his lap as if she doesn’t have a care in the world, occupying a room that isn’t even theirs. He sits up, bracing his hands on her thighs to keep his balance as he steals another quick kiss. “Don’t think the same applies to you, Professor Song.”

It’s true – there are more than enough places for her to be. She should take the TARDIS she’d managed to nick and go back home as soon as possible; try and avoid any more complications from the continued contact between two points in time that have no business being brought together. The wisest thing she can do is get all her stolen jewellery and leave this ship as soon as possible before she somehow ends up stuck here and makes a mess of everything. If it all goes south, it’ll all be on her this time around – he doesn’t know anything about any of this; not yet. She should send him on his way, tell him that she’ll see him again and put an end to this while it’s still reversible.

Still, “What gave you that impression?” she drawls out, physically unable to pull away now that she’s faced with the challenge she thinks she can see written all over his expression. He knows she’s up to something more than what she’s admitting to, of course, and he’s more than ready to dig deeper if she’ll allow it, so he takes the opportunity with pleasure now.

“Oh, let’s see! There’s the TARDIS in the hallway, for one, dead giveaway. There’s the fact that this room opened because of _my_ touch, not yours, even if you’ve brought someone else’s things inside—”

“Nothing to do with me,” River argues. It’s not her fault he’s equally hated by and fitting with the clientele of this sort of place. It doesn’t make much of a difference either way – he’s already gained momentum.

“— _and_ you’re still here, which means you’re short on time but still have work to do.” His expression is still open, but there’s an edge of bitterness to it now. “I couldn’t get you to stay longer than you wanted to if I tried.”

Her protest dies on her lips. This is a delicate time for them, River knows – she’d only experienced the terrible, gaping pit between them a few months ago and had felt about as helpless as he appears to be now. This is all there for some future her to deal with, apparently, if she’s already gone back further in time than this from his point of view. _The planet of the rain gods_. She must remember to agree to going there once the Doctor suggests it, she supposes, but for now— for now she’ll be much better off if she went home. It could save her a world of trouble.

“You don’t have to.”

The Doctor looks up from where his fingers are rearranging the elaborate ribbons of her shirt into what is doubtlessly some kind of pattern, freezing mid-knot. “What?”

This is a catastrophically bad idea. She should know better. She _had_ known better before, there had been a reason for her refusal to do what he’s asking of her, but there’s so much still to come for him. _Twenty-four years_. She can go home whenever she wants and not lose a second of it and both the Doctor in front of her and the one on Darillium would be none the wiser and, as he sees the decision in her eyes and grins up at her, arms snaking around her waist to bring her closer, River can already feel the answer bubbling up; can see the unadulterated joy in his eyes, mixed with a healthy dose of satisfaction once he’s predicted what it’s going to be.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she echoes his reassurance from before and can’t help but laugh, delighted, when the Doctor beams at her with the kind of disbelief she can’t believe she’d ever allowed to take root between them. His embrace is even tighter than when he’d first seen her today and he doesn’t say a thing, but his glee is nearly palpable as he presses her near and buries his head in her shoulder, the relief she can, inexplicably, sense through their link rolling off of him in waves. He’s still painfully _alone_ whether he’s got someone with him or not and the knot in her hearts starts to release slowly, half-formed guilt washed away in favour of resolve as she strokes a hand through his hair, her free arm wrapping around his back. It’s not going to be long at all, she reasons. She can go back whenever she wants; have all the security in the world instead of the infinite unknown futures she sees every time she looks into this particular set of eyes. She’s got a lifetime left with him and so does he in his own distant future, but all of it, she decides, will have to wait for now.

If his time is running out, then it’s all she can do to slow it down for just a little while.


End file.
